


darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be)

by mischief7manager



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Life-Affirming Sex, Love Confessions, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: "First the familiar shame and worry, twisting in her gut at the first mention of Syngorn. The kindling heat between her ribs, sparked so long ago she can hardly remember where it began, stoked higher at “They’re not worth you” and higher still at “Lady Vex’ahlia,” at every smile and touch, until she felt near consumed by the flames.The icy terror when she watched him fall. The single hopeful ember, clutched in desperate fingers during the ritual. The roaring triumph at his first breath, at his voice, ragged and rough, but there. She’d only had a moment to bend beneath the weight of her desperate relief, before dragons and monsters and the rest of the world came rushing back, but the heat remained, pressing against her skin until she thinks she might burst with it. How typical, she thinks, to burn so long in secret, and then to tell it to everyone but the only person who truly needs to hear it."It's the night before the fight with Vorgual, and Vex has left too much unsaid for far too long.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written and posted before I watched episode 71, so if that massively contradicts what happens in this fic, well. Too bad.
> 
> Title from "Can't Help Falling in Love," specifically the Ingrid Michaelson cover. Spoilers through episode 70.

Vex has never thought of herself as the sort of person to take initiative.

She takes action, don’t get her wrong. She’s learned the hard way to fight for what she wants. But it’s Vax who leaps into things headfirst, who throws himself into love and rage and grief with equal ferocity and disregard for consequences. Vax burns hot and fast, and doesn’t give a damn who knows it. Vex burns slow, always has. 

And oh, she’s burned these past weeks. First the familiar shame and worry, twisting in her gut at the first mention of Syngorn. The kindling heat between her ribs, sparked so long ago she can hardly remember where it began, stoked higher at “They’re not worth you” and higher still at “Lady Vex’ahlia,” at every smile and touch, until she felt near consumed by the flames.

The icy terror when she watched him fall. The single hopeful ember, clutched in desperate fingers during the ritual. The roaring triumph at his first breath, at his voice, ragged and rough, but  _ there _ . She’d only had a moment to bend beneath the weight of her desperate relief, before dragons and monsters and the rest of the world came rushing back, but the heat remained, pressing against her skin until she thinks she might burst with it. 

How typical, she thinks, to burn so long in secret, and then to tell it to everyone but the only person who truly needs to hear it.

Which is why she’s here, standing in front of Percy’s door in the mansion, hand raised to knock.

She’s not one to take initiative, but. She knows her friends. They love her, and she knows they understand the weight of what she’s done, what she’s revealed. They’d never use that to hurt her, but, if today had shown anything, it’s how utterly shit they all are at keeping secrets, and if he’s going to find out-

If he’s going to find out that Vex is in love with him, it’s damn well going to be from her. 

She knocks. 

There’s silence from within, and she winces. Of course, he’s probably sleeping, gods know he needs it, he’s still recovering from- from what happened. (Percy falling, blood seeping through his coat, the flooding emptiness of her ranger magic spending with no response, and silence, silence, silence-)

The door opens. Percy blinks at her. He’s a mess, even more than usual, hair in disarray, and he’s as casually dressed as she thinks she’s ever seen him. Her heart clenches for a moment, because he’s so  _ young _ , the youngest of all of them, and she forgets that until she sees him like this, wild hair and gangly limbs, so skinny without the layers of cloth he wears like armor. There’s at least two days’ worth of scruff dusting his jaw and chin, and Vex swallows hard against the sense memory of it, the scrape of stubble across her face as she leaned in and kissed him, his lips cold and still and wrong against hers,  _ please. Please let it be enough. _

“Vex?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, just- lost in thought.” She smiles, and it doesn’t feel like her face is about to crack when she does it, so. That’s a nice change. “I wanted to talk to you, for a moment. If you don’t mind?”

Percy looks at her for a moment. She keeps the smile on, though it’s more out of instinct at this point. If anyone in the group can see through her  _ it’s fine it’s all fine why wouldn’t it be fine  _ routine, it’s him. “Of course,” he says, “come in,” and steps aside.

She does. Percy’s room in the mansion is, she’s pretty sure, the same as everyone’s room in the mansion; with the exception of Pike, she doubts Scanlan put much thought into personalizing their spaces for them. It’s open, and clean, and the bed is ostentatiously large, but her attention is drawn to the bits and pieces spread across the table in the corner. She crosses to take a look, picking up one of the larger hunks of metal. “Are these from Ripley’s people?”

She feels more than hears Percy come to stand behind her. “Yes. Shoddy construction, for the most part, but…” He steps around her, picks up what looks like a cannibalized knock-off of Bad News. “With some work, they could still prove useful.” 

Vex looks at the metal she’s holding. It’s warped, by misfire, probably, twisted to the point where she’s not sure it can be salvaged. “I thought you wanted to destroy your work.”

Percy sighs. “Regardless of my… personal concerns, there’s no denying the practical applications.” He sets the gun back on the table. “I think at this point, we ought to take every advantage we can get.”

She huffs. “Can’t argue with that.” 

Silence falls again, as she turns the broken thing over and over in her hands. “So I wanted to talk to you.” 

She glances over just in time to see one corner of his mouth quirk up. “Yes, I imagine you would.” He crosses to sit on the bed, braces his elbows on his knees. “What about?”

She sits next to him, slowly, tucking her feet up under herself. “Well, um. The thing is.” She looks down at her lap, at her folded hands. “You died.”

She winces. She hears Percy chuckle, one short exhale of breath. “I remember.”

Vex wrings her hands. “You died and- we did the ritual to bring you back. Pike, I mean, she… She resurrected you, but- you know, we had to- we had to help.” She bites her lip, tucks her hair behind her ear. “Pike helped, with her magic, and Keyleth, she. You saw what she did. And-” Gods, when did her hands start shaking? “And me.” She risks a glance up at him. “I helped.” 

Percy’s looking at her. The warmth in her chest flares. “I’m glad,” he says. “However you helped, it worked, clearly, so…” He smiles, a little. “I’m glad.”

She smiles back. “Me, too.” 

For just a second, she wants to end it there. To call it a night, and go to sleep with the memory of his smile pressed against her heart. But she has to be brave, now. She owes it to both of them to be brave, just one more time. 

So she takes a deep breath, lets it out, squares her shoulders back. “Do you remember what I said, in the fight with Saundor? When-” She makes herself look at him, look him in the eye. “When he asked me to stay with him?”

Percy’s brow furrows. “Yes. Of course. You said your heart was someone else’s.” He lifts a hand, pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’ve been wondering if one of us ought to ask you about that, but-” He sighs. “More pressing matters seem to keep coming up.”

“It’s yours.” 

It’s so easy, in the end. She’d thought it would tear her apart to say it, this thing she’s kept tucked away inside her, she’d thought it would rip its way out of her and leave her broken, and maybe it still will, but- Gods, she’s so tired of keeping secrets. 

“It’s yours.” She says it again, because she can, because she wants to, and she smiles on a shaky breath as Percy’s eyes widen in realization. “That’s what I gave to the ritual, what I gave to bring you back. I couldn’t have given Saundor my heart if I’d wanted to, because I’d already given it to you. And I was so scared of telling you, I was so scared of- of fucking things up between us, but you  _ died _ , and-” She feels the tear begin to trail down her cheek, and she shakes her head, she needs to tell him, he needs to know. “I couldn’t bear it if you died and didn’t- if you didn’t know.” 

She runs out of words then, on a shuddery inhale, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Percy’s not looking at her, not looking at anything, really, his eyes slightly unfocused in the way they get when he’s drifted, his mind chasing down paths of thought too quickly for his words to keep up. So she waits. She knows he’ll come back eventually. He always does.

“This is… not the conversation I was expecting us to have,” he says finally. He looks genuinely surprised, which is not an expression she’s used to seeing on Percy’s face, and Vex can’t help the little thrill it sends through her to be the cause of it. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it once more. “How? When?”

“Syngorn, I think. That’s not- that’s not when it  _ started _ , but.” She smiles, raises one shoulder. “That’s when I knew.” She chuckles. “I’m sure it started long before that, but. It took me a while to figure it out.” 

He considers this. “And the ritual?”

Vex clears her throat. “I may have… confessed my feelings in front of everybody and planted one on your corpse.” Percy’s eyebrows shoot up, and she flushes. “You were dead, what was I supposed to do?”

It’s a reflex, defensive, but it comes out too sharp, too raw, and she sees him flinch at the pain in her voice. “I didn’t-” She sighs, buries her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

She sighs, runs her hands through her hair, sits up. “Anyway, I just wanted- I figured it was only a matter of time before somebody told you, and I assumed you’d rather hear it from me, so.” She spreads her hands, a self-deprecating  _ ta-da _ . “There it is. I’ll just-” She nods at the door and starts to rise. 

“Vex.”

His hand brushes against her wrist and she freezes, halfway to standing. “Vex.” He says it again, quieter, and she can’t hide the shiver it sends through her, her name said soft and urgent like that. His hand slips from her wrist to her fingers, not pulling, just. Holding on. “Sit. Please.”

She does. He doesn’t let go. “Forgive me.” His voice is measured, steady. “I am not… I have very little practice, with this.”

She smiles, wry. “Receiving love confessions?”

“Making them.” Vex’s breath catches, and she snaps around to look at Percy. He’s looking at her now, really looking, and the warmth in her chest fans to roaring at the expression, half-hope half-yearning, on his face. “That day, in Syngorn… I think, I  _ know _ , you will be an asset to Whitestone as it rebuilds-” he chuckles, “ _ if _ it rebuilds, I should say. And yes, the look on your father’s face was… After everything you’d told me about the way you were treated, it was unbelievably satisfying, but.” His grip on her fingers tightens, just for a moment. “You must know- You have to know, it was all for you. The title, the arrows, everything.” He looks down at their linked hands. “I can’t begin to imagine how I could possibly be worthy of-”

“Alright, hold it right there.” She twists in his grasp, twines their fingers and pulls until he’s facing her. “Look at me.” 

He does. She recognizes the look in his eyes, remembers it from the first few days after the Tomb. The self-recrimination, the guilt, and if this is going to go anywhere or be anything, she’s gonna have to get him to cut that shit out, right away. “Do you trust me?”

Percy blinks. “Of course. More than- Just about anyone, I should think.” 

She nods. “With your life?”

He frowns. “Vex, what-”

“Do you trust me with your life?”

He takes a breath, lets it out. “Yes. After everything you’ve done, everything we’ve- Yes.”

She reaches out and cups his cheek, turning him to look at her. “Then do me a favor, and trust me with mine. Trust me to make my own decisions. To choose what’s right for me.” She smiles and runs a thumb over his cheekbone, feels the warmth of his skin against her palm. “To choose who holds my heart.” 

He leans into her touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “We’re meant to be the clever ones,” he says, and her breath catches at the phrasing, a reminder of the letter she knows is tucked safe back into his pocket.

“I think,” she says, and her voice wavers only for a moment, “that I’d rather be the happy ones, just this once.”

And she kisses him.

She’s always been in a rush to kiss him, before. However she’s meant it, as thanks, as reassurance, as a physical expression of feelings she’s only just discovered inside herself, it’s been quick, a flash of lips against skin, there and gone in an instant. She’s never allowed herself to linger, except once, when it didn’t matter what anyone would read into it. For a moment, all she can think of is that last kiss, silent and desperate, and the feel of his lifeless form under hers.

But that moment isn’t this, and Percy is warm and moving next to her, his arms coming around her shoulders to pull her closer, and whatever stillness there was shatters as she gasps against him. She should go slowly, she knows, shouldn’t risk this fragile thing between them, shouldn’t push him so soon in his recovery, but he’s here, and he’s alive, and her body acts without permission from her mind as she braces on his shoulders and lifts herself into his lap, pressing herself against every inch of him. His mouth parts and she tugs his bottom lip between her teeth, feels satisfaction settle warm and low in her belly at the punched-out groan he makes in response. 

“We should-” she gasps, struggling to form the words as he trails kisses down her jaw and neck, as his fingers slip under her shirt to brush against her skin. “We should- we should wait.” She bites back a moan as he sucks hard on her pulse point, her hips shifting as the warmth in her belly begins to pool between her legs.

Percy nips at her neck once more and pulls back. “For what?” 

She stares at him for a long moment. “You’re right, fuck that.” 

He laughs, full-bellied, and she laughs with him, giddy with it. She’s still giggling as she tugs at his shirt, poufy and white and how does he keep his shirts so white she’ll have to get the secret, as she pulls it up and over his head. She’s still giggling as she ducks down to kiss him again, as she runs her hands over all of the newly (delightfully) bared skin available to her- until, quite suddenly, her giggles stop.

Vex has seen Percy shirtless before. Not often, and not in detail, but they’ve traveled together, bathed communally, had their clothes ripped off in front of each other in order to get at whatever the day’s latest life threatening injury was, enough times that she has a good sense of what he looks like. She didn’t realized how good a sense until just now, because what she feels under her fingers is not what she remembers having seen.

There are new scars.

Several of them, in fact. Points of raised, reddened skin, scattered across his chest and belly, little angry starbursts against the pale smoothness, and she knows if she turned him around, she’d find a matching set on his back. Entry and exit wounds. She’s never seen them up close like this, never seen them on anything but corpses, and suddenly she’s on Glintshore again, pressing her hands against the rising tide of blood, her Cure Wounds spell pouring out of her again and again-

“Vex.”

Percy’s hand reaches up to cover hers where it rests, shaking, just brushing against one of the largest bullet wounds, the one placed almost directly in the center of his chest. 

“We killed her.” Her voice cracks and she swallows hard, feels Percy’s chest rise and fall as he breathes. “She’s dead. I put an arrow in her chest.” Percy squeezes her hand, and the gentleness of that, that one gesture, cracks something inside her, and suddenly the words are pouring out. “I put an arrow in her chest, and we killed her, and it wasn’t- it didn’t matter, it wasn’t enough, because you were- and we brought you into the mansion and we needed to sleep and I woke up in the morning and you were there, and I thought- I forgot for a second and I was waiting for you to get up and grumble about coffee, or- but you  _ didn’t _ because she- because you were-”

“I’m here.” He brings his other hand up, cups hers between them. “Vex. I’m right here, you brought me back. You saved me.” He lifts her hand, presses it to his lips. “I’m here.” 

She leans forward until she can rest her forehead against his, until she can close her eyes and breathe him in until there’s nothing else in the world but them, but this. “I love you,” she says, and she feels him shudder. “I love you,” again, and gods, she should have said it in Syngorn, she should have said it in Whitestone, she should have been saying it every moment from the day they met, “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

He kisses her, hard, and she surges to meet him. She  _ wants _ him, wants him around her and against her and inside her until she can feel every inch of him, until she can’t remember how he felt cold and lifeless on that table, until she can’t think of anything but this.

They lose their clothes rather quickly after that. It’s something of a blur, a flurry of laces and buckles and thank the gods he was already dressed for bed, because getting all her layers off is enough of a struggle, if she had to get through his as well she might actually combust. As it is, it takes all of her control to stop kissing him long enough to undress, and her shirt is on one side of the room and her breastband’s on the other, and she really hopes nobody comes looking for Percy in the morning because there’ll be no explaining this away, but then Percy is pressing her down into the bed, his body weighing down against her breasts and her hips, and she rocks against him and they both groan at the slick slide of skin. “Percy,” she gasps, “I want-” 

She breaks off as he thrusts against her, so close to being just the friction she needs, but no, she sinks her fingers into his hair and pulls him back, “wait, Percy, wait, I want-”

He lifts up instantly, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “What? What is it?” He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving like they’re mid-battle, and she feels another rush of wetness between her legs, because he looks utterly wrecked and they’re just getting started. 

“I want-” she says, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips and Percy’s eyes follow, and she gives up on trying to put together words and wraps her legs around his waist, twisting and pushing until he’s on his back and she’s leaning over him, knees bracketing his hips, breasts hanging heavy and brushing against his chest.

“Alright?” she asks, or tries to, and she gets most of it out before she’s groaning and dropping her head to press against Percy’s shoulder, because he’s leaning up to take her nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking over the pebbled flesh, and she grinds her hips against his stomach, feels her slickness rub against him, gods, she’s so wet, she wants him, she wants, she wants, she wants-

“Vex.” She lifts her head and looks down at him. He’s slipped his hand down, down her ribs and her belly to rest between her legs, his fingers just brushing against her curls, and he’s looking up at her like she’s beautiful, like she’s holy, and can he feel what he’s doing to her, the fire building in her core, he must, and he’s pressing his hand against her, cupping her mound, the tip of his finger just brushing between her folds. “Can I-”

“ _ Yes. _ Gods, Percy, yes-” And she moans, and he moans with her, as he sinks his fingers into her slick heat, the heel of his hand pressing against her clit, sending sparks shooting up her spine, and she braces herself on his shoulders and rocks against him as he thrusts inside her, her clever man and his clever fingers. “Percy, please, please-”

She reaches down and grabs his wrist, pulling him away even as she clenches at the sudden emptiness. He brings his hand to his mouth and sucks, and she  _ throbs _ at the sight of him, and she moans, and it occurs to her that they’re not being particularly quiet, that their friends are in the mansion and could hear them, but she can’t bring herself to care, not when she’s reaching down to wrap a hand around Percy’s cock and guide him to her entrance, not when he’s wrapping his fingers in her hair and pulling her down to kiss him as she sinks down on him, groaning into the kiss until their hips are flush, until he’s inside her and stretching her full of him, and they stay there for a second, locked together, breathing each other in, until Percy kisses her deep and says against her lips-

“I love you, Vex.”

And the moment snaps, and Vex kisses back as their hips begin to move, the kiss muffling her cries as he thrusts up into her, as she rocks down onto him, and all she can hear is the slickness of their joining, the slapping of skin against skin, Percy’s grunting, stuttering breath beneath her. She drapes herself over him, presses herself against every inch of warm, sweat-slick skin, and he pushes himself up to meet her until they’re both upright, her seated in his lap, and he wraps his arms around her waist and she groans, the change in angle causing him to brush against the place inside her that sends fire burning through her veins.

She rides him, thighs burning with exertion, and she’ll feel it in the morning, but it’s so good, it’s  _ so  _ good, and she can feel the release building in her belly, and she pulls out of a kiss to gasp, “Percy, Percy, I need-”

He grins, wild, and kisses her again. “I know, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His hand slides over her back and around, down her belly and pressing through her curls until he finds her clit, and she tips her head back and cries out as he begins to rub hard circles against her. “I’ve got you, Vex, go on- Go on, please-”

It’s the  _ please _ that gets her, and with a moan she shatters around him, rocking desperately against his hand as the waves of pleasure overtake her. She falls forward to bury her face in his shoulder as he keeps moving, his fingers still circling over her even as she shudders from the overstimulation. “Percy,” she gasps, “Percy, you- I want to feel it, Percy, come on, come- Come for me, please, darling, please,  _ please _ , love, I want-”

Percy groans and grabs at her hips, pulling her down against him, and he thrusts up against her and cries out, and she shudders as he comes, and she has herbs and spells to keep any unwanted consequences at bay, but it’s still a risk, letting him come inside her, she knows that, but she doesn’t care, she can’t, not with his warmth flooding within her and his teeth pressing against her throat, and she’ll take anything, everything that lets her feel him here with her, that reminds her he’s alive.

She wraps her arms around him, holds him as he thrusts through the aftershocks, as he softens inside her, until he stills and slumps against her, the two of them holding each other up, panting and sated. 

Vex would gladly stay in this embrace for the rest of the night, but it’s starting to reach the point of uncomfortably sticky down there, so with a sigh she lifts herself out of Percy’s lap, wincing at the feel of him slipping out of her and the rush of fluid that follows. “Tell me Scanlan made you a washroom,” she says, leaning her weight against his side.

Percy’s chuckles, hoarse and raw. “Just there.” He nods off to the side of the room, towards a small alcove that Vex hadn’t noticed before. “Should be cloths, water.” He blinks up at her, face soft and relaxed. “Whatever you need.”

She smiles and kisses him, just once, before getting up on wobbly legs and stumbling over to the modest washbasin. She cleans up, leaves the damp cloth in the basin to soak, and makes her way back to the bed. Percy has flopped over backwards on the mattress and she sinks down next to him, curling up against his side. 

“Well,” she says.

“Quite,” he says. 

She lifts her head up to look at him. “Not gonna lie, that was a better outcome for the evening than I expected.”

He smiles. “You and me, both.” He slips an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him, dropping a kiss to her temple. “Not that I’m complaining.”

They lay there for a while, Vex’s heartbeat evening out and the sweat cooling on her skin. Her hand sits on Percy’s chest, right over a bullet scar, and she watches it rise and fall with his breathing. “We’re killing a dragon tomorrow,” she says, finally.

Percy huffs. “Dragons, potentially. Not to mention an abyssal monstrosity.” 

She laughs. “Right. Wouldn’t want to forget the abyssal monstrosity.” She lifts her hand, absently tracing circles over the planes of his skin. 

He drops his hand over hers. “The same is true of me, you know.” She looks up at him, frowning, and he presses her hand against his chest. “My heart is yours, if you’ll have it.”

Vex looks up at him, at this clever, foolish, beautiful man, who wormed his way through every wall she’d thrown up around herself, and smiles.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll have it.”

Percy smiles. “Good,” he says. And he leans down, again, to kiss her. 


End file.
